


Step Out and Up

by Gnine



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Video Game Mechanics, You decide..., because i can't help myself, brotherhood era, hurt!prompto, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-18 17:13:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15490701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gnine/pseuds/Gnine
Summary: "What's the worst that could happen?"Famous last words. A direct challenge to the universe, if there ever was one.  One Prompto had winced at, even as Noct had oh-so-casually thrown down that metaphysical gauntlet at Fate's feet.  Unfortunately,  his best friend had proceeded the statement with, "Please? It'll be fun."OrNoctis and Prompto just wanted to have a little unsupervised fun. Unfortunately fate and unfriendly Insomnian denizens  had other plans.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks once again to Xparrot for the beta. Heavily basing locations/details in this on Japan because, well, let's face it, Insomnia pretty much is Tokyo, but with a giant wall. Though the shopping arcade I'm picturing is actually in Osaka. Ah well…close enough?

_"Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"_

Famous last words. A direct challenge to the universe, if there ever was one.  One Prompto had winced at, even as Noct had oh-so-casually thrown down that metaphysical gauntlet at Fate's feet.  Unfortunately,  his best friend had proceeded the statement with, "Please? It'll be fun."

Just the 'please' was more than enough, successfully silencing the little voice in the back of Prompto's head. The one shouting, _'This is_ so _gonna blow up in your face!!'_ at the top of its lungs.

Hours later, facing off against a gang of six in a deserted shopping arcade in one of Insomnia's roughest neighborhoods, with no one the wiser as to their whereabouts, Prompto was really starting to regret muzzling that voice.   

Letting your best friend get killed almost certainly violated some bro code. When said best friend also happened to be the crown prince, Prompto was pretty sure he was veering directly into high treason territory.

And all because  of a stupid poster.

*****

"Hey, what's this?"

Prompto spared a quick glance from the TV to focus on the camera screen angled his way.  It had become a habit of Noct's to flip through Prompto's latest photos while waiting for his own turn.  Attention drawn back to the game, Prompto completed the next sequence before answering, "Advertisement for a cult classic movie night.  Artwork caught my eye."

Noct snorted. "Yeah, it's certainly…unique."

"Hilarious, right? Don't know who they got to do the art, but it's a fantastic mash-up."

"Dude!" Noct leaned forward suddenly, reaching over to pause the game despite Prompto's protest. "This is tonight!"

Prompto tried to wrestle the controller back, to no avail. "Yeah, and?"

"We should go!"

Prompto cut off his bark of laughter mid-exhale when he realized Noct was serious. "What? No. It starts in less than an hour."

"Plenty of time." Noct was already pushing himself off the sofa, heading towards his bedroom.

Rolling his eyes at the ceiling, Prompto raised his voice. "On the other side of the city."

The rejoinder was muffled, but still audible…unfortunately. "Which is why you should hurry it up."

It wasn't like Prompto didn't _want_ to go. Knew how much they'd both love it the minute he saw the all too cheesy, all too perfect poster.  And Noctis had been antsy lately, stuck in too many long-running meetings and other royal responsibilities. Tonight was the first time they'd been able to hang out for the whole evening in almost a month.

But then the time and location had registered and Prompto had known without a doubt how fast the idea would be nixed by certain parties.  So he decided not to mention it. Only he hadn't been able to bring himself to delete the picture, either.

"Noct, seriously, that's not exactly the nicest of neighborhoods."

"Safe enough you jog through it, though, right?"

"Not at _night,"_ Prompto shouted back.

"Aw, c'mon, those are three of your favorite movies. _Our_ favorite movies. I think we've watched _Eos Girls Are Easy_ twice in the last six months alone!" Noct returned, pulling a hoodie over his t-shirt as he came back, ball cap clutched in one hand. Standard attire when hoping to go unnoticed out in public. "Do you really wanna pass up the chance to see them on the big screen, with a crowd of other fans? "

No, dammit. But…"There's no way your security is going to let you head to that district at this time of night."

"Which is why we're not going to tell them."

Prompto slouched back stubbornly, bounced his head lightly off the back of the couch. "Oh yes, we're just popping out to the convenience store, be back in six hours. No need to kick up a fuss…what? You have a better plan to get them to not follow, or at least send up an alarm when we don't return after twenty minutes?"

 Noct threw him a smirk. "As a matter of fact…" Grabbing Prompto's school jacket , he tossed it over before continuing,  "You're going to head out as you normally would. And then I'm going to join you in a few minutes, after I 'retire' to my bedroom."

Prompto sat up, eyes narrowed. Noct sounded pretty damn confident…"How?"

The grin Prompto was given was all 'coeurl that'd eaten the proverbial chocobo chick'.  "By warping down off my balcony."

"Excuse me?"

The smirk only intensified. "Told you I'd been getting pretty good at it. All that extra practice Gladio's been making me do is actually paying off. "

"Okay, first off, seriously cool but how am I only just hearing about it? And second, tell me you've actually tried this, because pancaked prince is really not something I'm eager to order off the menu tonight. Or, y'know...ever. "

"With the assistance of a couple ledges, one neighbor's balcony, it's a smooth path down. No one the wiser. And if I leave my phone behind and on, even if someone—"

"— _cough_ Iggy _cough—"_

 _"—_ Exactly. Even if he checks up on me for any reason, the tracker app still places me here, safe and sound. "

Prompto pursed his lips, torn.  On the one hand, the men and women charged with Noctis' well-being were intimidation incarnate without even trying. On the other hand, cheesy movies, unhealthy snacks and a bit of rule breaking with his best friend was hard to pass up. Maybe, just maybe, he'd left the photo of that damn poster on his camera on the off chance of this exact outcome.

Sensing weakness, Noctis pounced, honing in on the kill. "Please? It'll be fun."

*****

And it had been: the crowd effusive, the popcorn buttery, the 'special effects' ten times cornier on a big screen, and at no point did the Crownsguard burst in and bust Noct for sneaking off unprotected. Again.  So all around a great night.

Right up until the point Prompto exited the restrooms after the credits on the last film had rolled, returning to a mostly emptied lobby to find Noctis, hat pulled low, ringed in a semicircle by three guys.

"Oh, what, rich kid, still got nothing to say? Good enough to come slummin' at our theaters, but not to talk to?"

And, yup, this right there was what Prompto had been afraid of.  The theater sat smack dab in the middle of one of Insomnia's poorest districts, a volatile mix of recently arrived struggling refugees scrambling for a safe place  and down-on-their-luck Insomnian natives with nowhere else to go and a building resentment towards the former for taxing already strained resources.

Round these parts, you were foreign, you were broke, or you were both. Prompto could slide by for the most part, as long as he tread carefully around some of the more extreme anti-refugee sentiments that floated around the place.  His native Insomnian accent only went so far to counter his non-Lucian looks.  

 Noctis, on the other hand, being the epitome of Lucian breeding, along with clothing--even at its most casual--and bearing that both bespoke a wealthy cultured background and upbringing, stood out like a sore thumb.

Combine that with a healthy dose of alcohol, if the stench wafting off these guys' breath was anything to go by, and it added up to a powder keg ready and eager to go off at the slightest provocation.

Prompto hastily stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Oh, hey, look at the time, we should really be—"

A meaty arm blocked his path, shoved him roughly back a few steps.  Noct glanced up, tense, eyes narrowed angrily at the contact. "Get away from him."

"Aw, what's that, rich baby? Don't like to see other people touching your--what're you, pipsqueak?" The ringleader gave Prompto another shove, eyes raking him up and down once, and sneered, "Tenebraen? Nif? Whatever, just another fuckin' foreign refugee, weaseling their way in." His glare swung back to Noctis. "Willing to toss around your money for them but not us, huh?"

Prompto grimaced. Just their luck; between him and Noct, they clearly ticked every box on this asshole's shitlist. Or maybe he just wanted to pick a fight with someone younger and smaller than himself. Awesome.   The one saving grace was their accosters did not seem to realize who Noct actually was. Yet.  They just needed to keep it that way.

"So, what, not enough ref whores up there in your glittering part of the city?  Gotta come around here to find this kinda trash –" the guy swept his arm in Prompto's direction again, made to grab him, full intention unclear but obviously threatening.

Which was the point that Noct punched him square in the face.  Smaller--the guy had a good 40 kilo on Noctis—and younger he may be, but it wasn't like the prince was a stranger to taking on such opponents. Trained regularly for it, in fact.

Prompto danced back as the guy went down. Hard.

"What the fuck?!" The two cronies both balled their fists, coming to defend their fallen companion.  Thankfully before any more punches were thrown, a loud, gravelly voice cut through the commotion.

"Okay, enough of that. The theater's closed, take this shit outside before I call the cops on the lot of you."

"Of course, sir." Prompto lunged forward, grateful for any interruption, grabbed at Noct's sleeve. "We were just going. C'mon, we  really need to…" He nodded towards the door, didn't actually say 'run like there's an angry pack of Voretooths on our heels,' but he was thinking it. Loudly.

"Whatever." Noct shook off his grip but continued to follow him out. 

Prompto took that as all the go-ahead he needed to speed up, wanting to make tracks before the jerks regrouped.  Reaching the lobby doors, a quick glance back showed the ringleader pushing unsteadily to his feet, bracketed on either side by his friends.  Prompto intended to be well on their way before asshole prime recovered enough to pursue.

Prompto kept their pace hurried until they'd made first one turn, then a second a half block down.  The movie theater was located near one end of a sprawling, multi-street shopping arcade that had seen better days.  When they'd come through earlier, most of the shops, the ones still in business at least, had been open or else just shutting down for the night, throngs of people still rushing about.

Now, just shy of four am, everything was closed, security gates down and windows shuttered, not a soul in sight.  It felt deserted, haunted, their lone footfalls echoing eerily through the wide enclosed space. But it was only their footsteps, as best as Prompto could tell.  Dodged that bullet, hopefully. He wasn’t looking forward to avoiding any more trouble for the hour they had to wait till the trains started back up.

Breathing out a sigh, Prompto turned to Noct, who marched along beside him, as silent as their surroundings.

"Dude, that punch was _amazing._ He just went _down. Thud!_ " A shrug was his only reply, but Prompto thought he caught a hint of a satisfied smirk. "Also crazy stupid risky."

"Heey!"

"—oh c'mon, you know how much grief we'll be in if certain parties ever got wind of you tangled up in an unsanctioned, unsupervised fight?"

Noct grimaced.  "Which is why they're not going to."

"Don't need to tell me.  You better believe my lips are sealed.  Airtight." Prompto's attention was drawn to the way Noct was absently rubbing his knuckles. "And with that in mind, you're going to ice your hand as soon as you get home, right? Because the last thing we need—"

 _—Is three guys blocking our path,_ his mind helpfully finished, while his mouth was too busy swearing in surprise.  Especially when it was a different three than before because, oh right, the original trio of thugs were coming up from behind, boxing them in. _Shit shit shiiiit._

Beside him, Noct pulled up short with a soft swear of his own. Sinking into what Prompto recognized as a fighting stance, Noct turned partway around to face the group coming up from the rear, snapped, "What, having your ass handed to you once wasn't enough, just had to prolong the embarrassment?"

Prompto, opening his mouth to attempt to figure out some way to defuse the situation, snapped it closed again and whipped his head around, scandalized. "Noct!" he hissed. " _Not_ helping!"

"They gathered three more guys," Noct muttered back softly, eyes locked forward. "This _is_ happening."

"Fuck you!" Mr. Winning-Personality-now-with-probable-broken-nose shouted, and raised his arm in command. "Let's teach these uppity, unwelcome brats a lesson."

Noct shrugged, rolled his shoulders and lowered his voice. "You hang back, I've got this."

"Noct!" Sure, he's got this. Six guys, all clearly older and bigger than them. No problem.

Only apparently it really wasn't.  Before even the first of them had gone more than a step, Noct was in motion. Ripping the cap off his head, he threw it hard at the farthest back of their attackers.  A shimmer in the air signaled the warp as Lucian magic carried Noctis to his target, plowing into him full force.

They both went down, but in seconds Noct was back on his feet, and now his foes were both caught off guard and with their backs exposed.

"What the fu—" was a far as the one got before Noct was slamming into him. Prompto missed what Noct had flung this time, but it flew faster and harder than the hat had, and the impact was even louder.

Noct _had_ said he'd been practicing warping more, but even so—Astrals be damned but this was next level.  Number three and four went down just as easily. By this point Noct had stopped tossing about magic, turned more to just tossing about expertly placed kicks and punches. Which seemed to be more than doing the trick.

At least to start with. The first guy had yet to regain his feet, moaning on the ground.  Number two, after the second warp strike, shouted something about  not signing up for 'no fuckin' Kingsglaive magic bullshit' and peaced out, retreating footsteps barely discernible over the sounds of the fight.

Unfortunately, three and four didn't stay down nearly as long as one had. Number five was a brute of a man, defending like he actually knew what he was doing, and meanwhile, number six, ringleader and head douche, was holding himself a little ways back, shouting encouragement and orders from the sidelines.

Noct was skilled, but apparently so too were some of their attackers, and six—now five—on one was never  going to be easy.

So when goon three's latest charge was deflected, becoming more of a toss that ended with him sprawled on the ground near where Prompto had retreated, Prompto reassessed the 'hang back' command…more of a suggestion, really, right? As the baddie started to push himself up again, Prompto stepped forward, giving his textbook-laden backpack a good hard swing. "And stay down," he muttered, satisfied, as asshole three flopped back over, groaning.

It was only after the fact that Prompto recalled his camera was in there as well, and sent up a brief prayer to the tech gods that he hadn't damaged it irreparably. He hesitated, assessing. He had no wish to make a target of himself and risk distracting or even screwing up his friend's strategy. 

Unfortunately, it seemed like Noctis was wearing down. He'd mentioned before that overusing magic could be taxing, not to mention the fact it was going on four in the morning following a full day of school and oh yeah, he'd been taking on half a dozen guys solo for several minutes now.

About to dart forward, a bellow froze Prompto in his tracks.  The big guy was down, clutching his knee, swearing at the top of his lungs.  Following the critical blow, Noct danced back, only a few paces in front of Prompto, gaging the situation. 

Prompto took stock himself. The ringleader was matching his cohort in volume, spewing more hatred at the both of them. Baddie one had come around and was starting to push himself up, also slurring threats. Two was gone, three was still thankfully out for the count. And four…

 A flash, light reflecting off of metal from the far side of the fray, drew Prompto's gaze.  The ringleader had started to move forward, Noct bracing himself to meet him.  And both seemed unaware as four leveled a pistol at them.

The guy was speaking too, but quieter—Prompto had to strain to hear--almost a mutter, words muffled by what might have been a broken jaw.  About how they better just cut this shit out, start taking them seriously. His words were as shaky as the gun in his hand.

A gun that looked awfully real.  Not that Prompto had seen all that many up close. But he'd played plenty of video games, many of which prided themselves on ultra-realism. And this one looked a lot like all of those. 

A real gun, pointed directly at Noctis. Who had yet to notice, attention caught by the steady approach of ringleader, backed by flunky one, back on his feet once more.

Everything seemed to slow as Prompto's focus narrowed  to a shaky, too-far away finger as it started to squeeze the trigger.

He was moving before conscious thought kicked in, Noct's name on his lips. Prompto felt more than heard Noct's grunt as they collided.  The deafening bang of the gunshot overlapped with his own shout, twin sounds echoing out into the sudden silence.

For a moment all that registered was the labored breathing of all parties involved, and the sting where Prompto's knees had met the pavement.

"Astrals," swore the ringleader. "I thought you said that thing wasn't loaded!"

"I…I thought it wasn't! Just gonna scare 'em. Shit…shit!!"

It took a moment for the words to penetrate. When they did, Prompto, still on his knees, twisted around to see. Had he not been fast enough; had he been too late…?

 Noct's wide, startled eyes met his from a few feet away from where he'd fallen, arms braced and legs akimbo, mouth moving but no sound coming out. 

Prompto could see no obvious wound, no blood. So maybe….maybe it was going to be okay.

"Fuck, you just shot someone….some kid. We need to get the hell out of here!" Suiting actions to words, their attackers started beating a hasty retreat, six and his bad leg supported between ringleader and one.  Four trailed behind them.

So that was lucky. Except…if Noct wasn't shot…then… Prompto's thoughts were flowing about as smoothly as a river over jagged rocks in a shallow streambed. 

"P-prom?" Noct had apparently found his voice, only just barely, the single word hoarse, strangled.  His gaze was trained, laser-focused, but not on Prompto's face. Lower down.

He followed its trajectory, but it took a moment for  Prompto to process the sight of the crimson staining his own hand—a hand he had no conscious memory of moving--pressed to his side.  The side that started screaming with pain, around the same time the fact that he was covered in his own blood started registering.

Prompto's vision was greying and his limbs felt made of lead and oh shit. "Um, Noct? ...I think I've been shot…"


	2. Chapter 2

_"Noct?...I think I've been shot…"_

Noct bit back his initial retort— _No shit!!—_ as well as the second— _Well that's what_ happens _when you take a fucking bullet for someone—_ in favor of scrambling forward to catch him as he slumped, Prompto's supporting arm buckling.

Easing his friend prone, Noct pushed Prompto's other hand back in order to get a better look at the wound.  First aid and field medicine were included in the royal training regimen, but they'd never been a favorite.  He had learned enough, though, to do a rough assessment.  A through and through — a plus in terms of no bullet to go rooting around for, a minus in the fact that there was not one but two gaping holes in Prompto's side to worry about.

At least they were both low enough to have not pierced a lung. Probably. Hopefully. There were still plenty of other organs to be concerned for. Also the whole bleeding profusely thing. 

"H-how bad?" Prom croaked, eyelids fluttering partially open, gaze beneath unfocused. 

"Could be worse," Noct hedged. Of course it could also be better.  Not fucking shot at all would have been ideal.  Breaking eye contact first, Noct pulled his hoodie off over his head. "You'll be fine." Because the alternative was unthinkable, impermissible.  "Just need to put pressure on this. " He suited actions to words, trying in vain to ignore the pained whimper that escaped Prompto at the hard press of the sweatshirt on the wound.

Reaching for his cell, Noct remembered only as he encountered empty air that he'd left it safe and sound and useless back at his apartment. Fuck. "Prom, your phone. Which pocket's your phone in?"

"Um...it's, ah…" Prompto hissed, gulped, eyes squeezed shut. "P-pants, left s-side." But even as Noct's seeking hand found the phone and wrestled it out, Prompto went on. "B-but…um, it's dead...been for  h-hours."

Of course it was. Because it was as old as sin and cheap as shit and wouldn't hold a charge for even half a school day at this point. First thing Prompto had done when they'd gotten to Noct's place had been to plug it in, as always. Except that had been hours and hours ago.

Noct had been threatening to buy him a new one for months now, only every time he mentioned it, his friend got that pinched look he always did whenever anything of a vaguely financial nature came up. So Noct had let it go, resigned himself to wait for the next birthday to hopefully slip past the self-sufficiency walls Prompto erected far too high and far too often.

"First thing I'm doing after we get you fixed up is getting you a new one. No protests."

Prompto nodded vaguely, panted a barely there, _"kay."_ Capitulating with ease. Shit.

"Hey." Noct leaned forward, patting Prom's cheek gently until his eyes reopened enough to reveal a sliver of blue. "No sleeping.  What happened to an easy all-nighter?"

Prom grimaced, but his lids crept a bit further up. "I got sh-shot, is what."

"Here, just gonna borrow this," and Noct nodded to Prompto's school tie as he began to unfasten it, shaking fingers fumbling over the knot. "And that's a pretty flimsy excuse, if you ask me, to be dozing off before your prince."

"H-humblest apologies, your  h-highness. I'll work on th—" Prom's next words were cut off by a moan as Noctis used the tie to cinch the balled sweatshirt tight over both entry and exit wound.  As bandages went, it wasn't much, but it was all he had at present.

They needed real help, and they needed it now.

A sound to his right drew Noct's attention.  The last of their attackers, the one Prompto had helped to keep down and then subsequently abandoned by his companions' speedy retreat, had started to come around.  

Noct tensed, shifting to shield Prompto as much as possible, watching warily as their assailant stumbled up. The guy glanced about to take in his solo state, their silent tableau, the unsettlingly large pool of blood.

"What the fuck?" the guy gasped, just as Noct snapped, "We need your help."

The man froze, momentarily torn. Noct knew the moment the asshole made his decision, even before he began to turn, could tell the way his gaze slid away from Noct, unable meet his eyes.  Ashamed…as he should be.  Bastard.

Noct gathered himself, readying for another warp. If nothing else, the guy should have a cell on him. Only reaching down to the well of magic at his core,  all he found was emptiness, reserve depleted. He'd been warned of bottoming out, overusing his magic; in training he'd always been stopped before it got to this point.

The exhaustion was all-encompassing, a weighted blanket encumbering every movement, a bone-deep weariness.  Even as Noct attempted to push himself erect, the man was making his escape, darting down the nearest blind alley.

As the rapid footfalls faded, Noct let himself drop once more to Prompto's side with a curse.  He contemplated hollering for aid, dismissed the idea almost immediately. If the sounds of a protracted fight followed by a gunshot had not drawn anyone's attention, he doubted frantic pleas would bear any more fruit. 

He wasn't even sure there was anyone around to hear. The arcade's covering would be an effective sound blockade, and all the shops on this level were long since closed for the night. But there had to be _something_ open twenty-four hours around here, a convenience store or karaoke, anything.

Noct reached forward, gave Prompto's shoulder a small shake to bring closed eyes opened once again. "Prom, hey,  c'mon, talk to me.  You know the area, what's open and close by?"

Noct could see the clear struggle, how long it took for the question to penetrate.  "Um…b-by the station?" More doubt than Noct would have liked, but he'd take whatever he could get.

"Okay. Um…and where was that again?" He hadn't exactly been paying attention when they'd come through earlier, had been trusting Prompto to get them where they need to go. All he recalled was multiple turns and a few narrower alleys and oh but they were so, _so_ screwed.

Prompto was blinking dazedly back at him, brow scrunched in thought. Or pain. Disbelief at Noct's geographical recall failure. Who knew, who cared.  All that mattered was the amount of time slipping by, every second one too many.

Moving gunshot victims unnecessarily was usually a no-no, especially with a wound in that location; the chance of some form of spinal injury was a very real possibility.

However, leaving Prompto in search of aid was looking like an equally terrible option. He was fading too fast, and Noct couldn't guarantee he'd be able on his own to find his way to help…or his way back here once he'd found it. Not quickly enough at least. Not to mention the fuckers could return at any moment and Prompto would be completely defenseless in Noct's absence.

"Okay, you're gonna have to direct me as we go," Noct cautioned as he began to maneuver Prompto up. He knew from their school's most recent sports festival that he could piggyback his friend for a considerable amount of time. And he could do it at a good speed even, if their first-place finish in that dumb race was any indication.

 Of course at the time he hadn't been magically depleted, completely exhausted and aching from one too many not entirely evaded blows. But there was no choice.  Didn't Gladio keep reminding him no pain, no gain? Or in this case, no pain, no friend not dying.

 "W-what do I look like," Prompto began to quip back, roused by the movement, "your personal GPS—s-shit." He ended on a hiss, hunching over, hands wrapped tight around his torso. "Fuck," he gasped out, eyes squeezed shut.

 Noct froze.  He wasn't a stranger to serious injury himself, knew how much even the slightest motion would  be agony.  He would do just about anything to spare Prompto that. Only that 'anything' did not include leaving him to bleed out. 

Grimacing, Noct forced himself to press on over the continued swears and gasps of pain, bringing Promtpo's arms over his neck, reassured when he felt their slight tightening, Prom holding on as Noct pushed them to standing.

Noct fought his own wave of dizziness as he reached his feet. He steadied himself through force of will, started a silent mantra to just keep walking, just don't stumble, he had this. 

"Hey," Noct called after a few steps, continuing on in the direction they'd been heading before the attack. "Where's our next turn?"

The softly murmured answer came as a gentle puff against the shell of his ear, the closeness the only reason he heard it at all. "C-coming up, on the left."

Noct navigated as commanded, upping his pace as he did so. He could feel Prompto's full-body shudder in response to the faster gait. "Sorry."

"Right at the next junction...and it's f-fine. Sorry you gotta lug me a-around."

"Yeah, well, next time consider my poor back before you go and get yourself shot. " Noct honestly wasn't sure if the response to that was more a chuckle or a whimper. "Or, y'know, never do this again." He knew he should probably conserve his energy for the walk, but now that he'd given that crank a turn, he felt like the jack-in-the-box needing to explode out. "Seriously, dude, what were you _thinking?!"_

Their close proximity conveyed Prompto's frustration in minute physical detail as he tensed, attempted to shrug, making the overly frustrated tone almost superfluous . "Oh, I don't know, maybe that I c-couldn't just stand by and w-watch you get killed?"

"So you take the hit instead? How is that any better?!" Noct knew his voice was louder than necessary, but it wasn't like there was anyone around to object.  If only.

"Well, if I'd shown up with you injured, pretty sure G-gladio and Iggy would kill me anyways; this way at least one of us survives."

"Not funny."

"Oh c'mon, it's at least a l-little funny—" The retort ended in a cough. Noct prayed it was just his imagination that it sounded wet. Was too scared to glance back and chance spotting red on his friend's lips. 

"How much further?" Noct pressed, all too aware of Prompto's rapid breaths, each ending on an increasingly pain-laden exhalation.

It took longer for the answer than before. "R-road comes…to an end, turn right."

Squinting forward, Noct could see where he meant, a few blocks up, shuttered store-front rather than continuing street. "Convenience store's just a little b-beyond..." Prompto was full on panting by the end, breath warm on Noct's neck.

Noct put on another burst of speed, ignoring the way his legs burned, the sparkles that danced across his vision.

By the time the welcoming lights of the open store came into view, Prompto was no longer answering.  Noct all but threw himself at the door as he jogged up, the automatic sensor reacting slow enough that for an instant Noct feared that the shop was actually closed like all the rest.

But after a second—a lifetime—the doors swished softly open. Noct skidded forward with barely enough of a gap to slip through, voice raised. "Help! I need help, now!"

He could see no one at first, the space behind the counter empty. The blood rushing in his ears almost drowned out the reply, the sole response coming from off to the left and down the back near the drinks. "Yeah, yeah, just chill, I'll be with you in a minute. "

The opposite of chill, Noct zeroed in on the voice, which had lowered but was still talking, muttering about damn drunk kids and the late shift. He shot down the aisle as soon as he pinpointed the clerk's location. Slid the last few steps on his knees as his shaking legs gave out.

"Gimme your phone," Noct snapped, disentangling himself from now limp arms, sliding Prompto as gently as possible to the floor.

"What the hells, kid, calm down. I won't hesitate to call the cops—Astrals, what happened to him?!"

The clerk had frozen, the bottle he'd been in the middle of restocking slipping out of numb fingers, to shatter as it hit the tile. Because broken glass was definitely what they needed to improve this night.

"Go ahead, call them, "Noct panted. "Just get an ambulance too."

Unfortunately the man just sat there, continuing to stare, mouth agape.  "Is….is that _blood?"_

Noct fought the very real urge to tackle the guy. "Yes, hence the ambulance. Now are you going—"

"Why is he—" the clerk glanced up questioningly, expression shifting suddenly as he met Noct's eyes. "Ifrit's balls…you're the prince!"

Noct swore. Of all the times to be recognized. "Yes," he ground out. "I'm your gods-be-damned prince, who's commanding you to call emergency services."

The guy still wasn't moving. "But why is the crown prince—"

"About to _strangle_ you? Good question.  Maybe because you're not making. The fucking. Phone. Call. You think?" Noct took a deep breath, drew on every regal fiber of his being. "Now _move!_ "

The man jumped, gulped, and sprang to his feet, bee-lining for the front of the store.  Noct really hoped he was going for a phone, or even a panic button, anything that would summon help. Just as long as he wasn't going for a weapon; from what he'd gathered from media—and a few of Prompto's more colorful tales—in this kind of neighborhood, one never knew.

Scooting forward, he could peek around the shelf enough to see as the guy vaulted the counter, lunged to grab up—a phone. Noct breathed a sigh of relief, turned back to Prompto.

In the harsh florescent light he looked almost translucent: already pale complexation ghostly, a stark contrast to the bright red splattering his chest. A chest that looked awfully still.

Ice flowing through his veins, Noct scrambled forward, trying to suppress the shake in his hand as he reached out.  Held his breath as his fingers encountered cold, clammy skin; only started to breathe again at the telltale beat of a pulse. Far too fast, far too faint, but still there.

Now they just had to keep it that way until aid arrived.

Cold meant shock. Deal with that first.  Leaning over, Noct grabbed for the nearest bulky objects. A few jumbo-sized chip bags worked to elevate Prompto's feet.  Casting about, nothing immediately jumped out as a heat source or blanket, anything to warm him up. Or at least keep in what little body heat remained.

"Your….your highness?" The clerk was back, looming, hesitant. "The police are on the way. And an ambulance. "

"About time."

"…I also suggested they call the Crownsguard? 'Cause…um…well…" The guy trailed off, hand flapping uselessly at Noct.

Noct winced at just the thought of the sure-to-be-forthcoming tsunami of a response. Couldn't be helped, though. By this point it was impossible the 'guard wouldn't find out eventually; probably better sooner rather than later. "Fine. Now what do you have that I can use to keep him warm?"

"Um..." That blank look was less than reassuring. Noct was about to let loose another string of curses—they'd become fairly ubiquitous at this point—when the guy brightened. "I think we've got a first aid kit in back, might have one of those shiny thermal blanket things. Oh and those microwavable heat pads, for sore muscles and stuff. We've got 'em on aisle two and—"

"Good, go. And hurry!" Noct hollered after him. One hand he kept lightly pressed to Prompto's throat, monitoring that vital rhythm. "That's it, Prom, just…keep that up." Noct found himself alternating between the encouraging, mostly-under-his-breath litany and continued swearing.

All the while his eyes roved over the shelves, racking his brain for anything further he could do.  He really hoped he was imagining the increasing speed and unevenness of the beat beneath his fingertips. Debated counting.  

And that's when it registered. Less than a foot in front of him, behind the glass doors of the beverage fridge, were various sodas, beers, coffees…and energy drinks.  Noct couldn't get into the case fast enough, grabbing for the all-too-familiar brand.

It was only after he had one clutched in his unsteady grasp that he stopped, hauled in a deep breath, suddenly unsure.

Of all the magics the crystal had bestowed upon the Lucian line and its followers, healing was the most temperamental, and rare. Luna and the Oracle line were the only ones Noct knew of that could manage it directly. Even his father required a physical aid to channel the energies within.  Extensive past research had found the formula for this exact brand of drink to be especially receptive for holding the spell.  Noct had always suspected this explained the ongoing success of the otherwise rather tasteless drink; crown backing ensured it would always be available when needed.

Noct was ready to fall to his knees and praise whoever's call that had been.  Just as soon as he was sure this would actually work.

The problem with restorative magic being so rare meant that Noct had, up to date, had very little chance to train with it. His father spent more and more of his time and more importantly energies on maintaining the wall. What little he could spare to create curatives went directly to the war efforts, not on training Noct.

Noct could count on one hand the number of times he'd made the attempt himself, and still have two fingers to spare.  Not to mention how he'd already overused his magic this evening. Because a quick internal check—still just a trickle—showed that, yeah, the whole depleted condition was still very much a thing.

"Highness!  Here, I've got two heat pads, more going in the microwave. And a blanket!" The clerk crashed down beside him. "Um…are you gonna try to make him drink that? Is that a good idea…man, he's really not looking good…"

No, he really wasn't. In the last minute or so, as Noct had begun the questionable task of marshaling what little magic wisps he had remaining, Prompto's color had gotten worse—a remarkable feat seeing as not so long ago he was giving milk-that’s-gone-off pale a run for its money.  The tinge of blue at his lips was really rounding out the picture. And oh yeah, his breathing had definitely grown harsher, more labored.

Which meant either figuring this shit out or losing his best friend. So Noct was doing this, and he'd make it work, simple as that.

"Hey, so should we wrap this around him, or…."

Noct ignored the rambling, closed his eyes and concentrated.  Felt the flow within, quiet, so much further down than usual. But still there, waiting, listening…calling. All he had to do was…

 _Reach._   Like a burst of bright light in a room long dark, his senses flared strong but quick with the rush of power. Fighting the sudden tide, he did what he could to guide it, push it towards the bottle clutched in his hand.

In an instant—an eternity—it was over.

"Six be damned, what the hells was that—whoa, you okay?"

Noct found his sudden sway halted by an unexpected hand, opened his eyes to the clerk's panicked face. "Your highness? Prince Noctis, are you—"

Noct shoved away, slid across the few feet of tile back to Prompto's side.  There was a glimmer in the bottle he held, he could feel it, a light breeze across his senses. No doubt far weaker than his father could manage at his best, but there none the less. 

Pushing the makeshift dressing aside, Noct cracked the bottle open, upended the transformed—hopefully successfully—liquid directly upon the wound.

"Um…highness…shouldn't you use water? I think there's some sterile cases—w-what the hells?"

Breath held, for an endless moment Noct feared it hadn't worked. But as the drink splashed over the wound, the familiar shimmer began. 

And ended all too quickly. But it had been there, and where it had touched, the hole definitely looked partially closed, blood clotting, no longer seeping.  As Prompto's breathing evened out, Noct found his own doing the same.  Not a lot, but enough—it had to be enough.

Because Noct had nothing else to give. Everything was starting to go muted, the only colors the increasing number  of sparkles dotting his vision.  He was pretty sure the clerk was saying something else, at least someone seemed to be.  But damned if he could make it out.

The only sound Noct cared to focus on was that continuing soft inhale and exhale.  And okay, the sound of approaching sirens was acceptable as well, he would take those, too, and gratefully. It was to those twin harmonies that the closing curtain of consciousness came down on.


	3. Chapter 3

"Look, you have every reason to be mad, and I swear I'll listen to every lecture.  I just need you to promise to do something first. "

As greetings went, it was not the most auspicious of starts to any conversation.  Gladio raised his head enough to blink blearily at the clock on the nightstand.   He'd been asleep for all of half an hour. Great. His answering of the phone had been on instinct. One that Gladio wished, on occasion, he could curb.

"Noct?" he slurred, face still half mashed in the pillow. It had been a while since he'd had a Friday night free and he had taken full advantage, only calling it quits as the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon.  Solving princely problems was not how he'd planned on spending the following morning. "Are these lectures going to involve me reaming you out for calling me at the ass-crack of dawn?"

"P-pretty sure that's gonna be so far down the list you'll have forgotten by the time you reach it." The words held the usual casual flippancy, but the wavering note was out of place, enough to have Gladio sitting up, already reaching for his pants.

"What happened?"

The following swallow was audible and then Noct's voice quieter, subdued, when he eventually answered, "I fucked up, Gladio. Badly." 

"Okay, start from the—hold on, got another call coming in."

Noct's hurried, "Wait!" had Gladio pausing with the phone half pulled back. He returned it to his ear before he could read the caller ID.

"Yeah?"

"Look, I'm sure it's the Crownsguard. Or your dad.  Maybe Specs…though I doubt they'd have made it through everything that quickly—"

"You're babbling." Not the norm for Noct. His overly effusive blond friend, sure. But Noct? That the prince was doing so now had the already-flashing warning lights in Gladio’s head practically strobing. "If you don't want me to hear it from them, start making sense."

A deep breath followed. And then, fast enough that Gladio had to concentrate to parse the individual words: "Prom and I snuck out past my security to go see a movie marathon down in the South-East Ward"—ditching security, check; off-limits part of the city, check—"where we had a run-in with some assholes who took offense at everything and thought six on two was a fair fight"—unsupervised combat, check: the whole laundry list of lectures was already taking shape—"and then Prom had to go be stupid and heroic and get _shot_ and—"

"Whoa, what?! Slow down. Is he okay?"

The answering silence was foreboding.

"Noct?" Gladio, having switched the phone to speaker halfway through to start throwing on clothes, froze. Took a breath of his own, finally prompted after the quiet continued too long, "Is he—"

"I don't _know!"_ came the explosion a second later.  "They won't tell me anything, just that he's still in surgery.  But it was bad, Astrals know how much good the potion I made did, and now'—"

"—Potion? Since when have you been able to—"

"Since my best friend started bleeding to death in front of me! Apparently that was the simple motivator I was missing." Noct’s laugh was well past bordering on hysterical.  He was unraveling fast and Gladio needed to find a way to tie the mess off.

"Noct, you need me to hunt these guys down?"

"No," Noct sighed. "The police apparently had identified most of them even before the Crownsguard arrived. They’re working in tandem to bring them in now. Which is apparently its own host of other problems, because most of the guys belong to some anti-refugee/anti-crown group that's been making waves—"

Gladio inhaled sharply. This was just getting better and better. "Did they target you specifically?"

"No, I don't think so…but the fact that now I'm involved is probably gonna be…messy."

Gladio couldn't hold back the snort. "Understatement." Opening his door, Gladio was met by Jared, fist poised to knock. Not particularly surprised, Gladio nodded silent acknowledgment to the whispered 'The car is coming around now,' and proceeded down the stairs at a breakneck pace, phone still pressed to his ear.

"Okay, Noct, what _do_ you need?"

*****

The security presence wasn't particularly overt at the hospital entrance. It was only as the elevators  opened on the designated floor that the magnitude of the response became apparent,  police—officers and plainclothes detectives both—scattered about, as well as a half-dozen or so Crownsguard.

One of the latter nodded to Gladio, led him down the corridor to a small waiting room. His father was the first to register his presence with a growled, "About time."

Beyond him, Ignis cut off whatever he was saying to Noct, acknowledging Gladio's arrival with a small incline of his head.  Noct's relief was more blatant, shoulders sagging in a sudden release of tension. Gladio took a moment to look him over, noted the deep circles under his eyes and slight tremor. 

"Now, highness,” Gladio’s father was using his ‘at the end of my patience’ tone. “The rest of your retinue has arrived, may we go? The quicker you can give a positive identification, the smoother the rest of this can proceed."  

The consent Noct gave was grudging. "Fine," he muttered, then turned to Gladio. "So far there's still been no news—any change, you'll let me know?"

Gladio nodded, feeling his father's eyes on him. "Will do. As promised."

"Gladio?" His father's tone was sharp. "What—"

"He's staying here," Noct spoke over him, chin raised in defiance. "With Prompto."

Gladio was all too familiar with that particular sigh of his father's, though in recent years it had been directed more and more at Iris than himself. "Highness, the Shield's place, especially in a situation like this, is by your side."

What his father may not have realized, though, was as stubborn as the Amicitia siblings could be, Noct gave them both a run for their money when truly motivated. He just rarely dug his heels in.

" _My_ Shield's place is where I ask it. I don't notice Dad here right now.  He sent his trusted Shield where he needed to be, in his stead. Well, then…"

Gladio had known as soon as Noct had made the request that it would be a fight. But one that if Noct was prepared to fight, Gladio was prepared to uphold.  Sometimes a shield guarded not just body but peace of mind.

Leaving them to it—"We're going to be in a police station, surrounded by detectives _and_ Crownsguard—" "—Even so, highness, your wellbeing depends on—" Gladio ducked around the argument and sidled over to Ignis, whose slightly furrowed brow would barely register to most, but was screaming to Gladio of his discontent.

"You had already spoken to him?" was Ignis’s whispered question as soon as he drew close enough.

"Shortly after Noct woke up, from what I gathered."

"Ah." A brief hesitation, and then, "And he asked _you—"_ Ignis cut himself off abruptly, looking vaguely embarrassed.

Gladio heard the silent: _Why not me?_ He chose to answer as if it'd been spoken. "Noct told me point-blank he refuses to entrust Prompto to anyone but you or me.  Said we, at least, might give half a damn."

Ignis grimaced.  "Neither the police nor the hospital have had any luck contacting his parents. They're both on protracted trips outside of the city. Again."

"So Noct said." Gladio had been unsurprised, if frustrated. The topic had come up more than once between him and Ignis of late, as some of the lengths of those absences had been growing more apparent. To not be able to reach them at all, though, even at a time like this… "I did tell Noct I think he underestimates how many Crownsguards' hearts Blondie’s wormed his way into since he started hanging around the training sessions."

Ignis' lips twitched in acknowledgment, the shadow of a hinted smile. "Even so…"

"Exactly, so we're up. But Noct was pressed for time, figured he'd only get the chance to call one of us directly. And he knew he wouldn't have to make any special requests to have your help navigating the political mess this is becoming; you'd already be on it. Which left me the only choice. Really, based on the little I've heard so far, I'd say I'm getting the easy job."

Because bedside vigils for gravely injured friends were always the epitome of 'easy.' The look Ignis threw him said it all. 

*********

With the departure of Noct  and his entourage, the waiting room cleared out quickly, but Gladio was able to grab one of the Crownsguards long enough to get a more complete account of the events of night. The prince's had been haphazard at best and woefully lacking in detail.

After receiving a promise of access to all recovered video surveillance of the incident as soon as possible, Gladio sent the guard on his way and settled in for the long haul.

Considering the parties involved, this was no doubt the hospital's finest waiting room, but that wasn't saying all that much. The finely accoutered Citadel Medical wing it was not. The chairs were tolerably comfortable—for now, at least. After a few hours….

If only he'd thought to grab a book.

In shorter than was fair to expect but longer than his driving need for action deemed tolerable, Gladio’s phone dinged with the incoming video links.

If nothing else, no one could be accused of slacking on this one. In only a handful of hours, they'd already managed to cobble together not one but three different angles on the attack from various security feeds.

Despite the grimness of the aftermath, Gladio couldn’t help his grin accompanied by a burst of pride, recognizing more than one move he'd drilled repeatedly with Noct over the past few years.   Severely outnumbered, but he hadn't hesitated, had been doing well, right up until the moment the attackers changed the rules.

In the first two video feeds, Prompto had been off-screen for the most part, right up until his impact with Noct. But the third had him in full view for that key instant. The camera captured perfectly the expression on his face the moment he realized the inevitable. And acted, without even a second's hesitation.

 _Gladio…he saved my life_. 

At the time, Gladio had wondered if there had been an element of exaggeration in Noct's whispered confession. Not so now, watching it play out all too painfully clear on repeat on his tiny screen. The mad dash, the shove, the spray of blood.  Gladio knew more than one seasoned Crownsguard with slower reflexes and less selfless instincts.                                                         

He couldn't help but be impressed. Also even more concerned; that hit looked bad.

But Prompto was young, healthy, and had made it to medical attention still breathing. Now if only the damn doctors would come and tell him anything.  Gladio himself had been sitting here for well over two hours now, going on three, much longer still since Prompto had been brought in.

He'd just received the forth inquiring text—from Ignis,  which told Gladio that Noct was still without his phone. Otherwise the quantity of status demanding messages would be quadrupled, he was certain.

"Mr. Amicitia, for Prompto Argentum?"

Mid-typing, Gladio had missed the doctor's approach. Over the last few hours he'd tuned out the tread of incoming footsteps; too many disappointments as they continued on past without stopping to bring him news. 

Tucking the phone away, he pushed up from his slouch.  "What's the word?"

Gladio had rarely been as grateful for Ignis' usual foresight as now. Back when Prompto had first regularly started hanging around with Noct, Ignis had pushed to get a signed waiver from Prompto's parents, granting Crown Representatives medical authority in certain emergency situations. It was intended to be in reserve, in case of a crisis requiring lockdown of the Citadel or other communication blackout events. But it also meant that right now, Gladio didn't have to worry about any runaround in getting very much needed reassurances.  

"He was in critical condition when they brought him. But"—and the doctor’s smile released a well of tension Gladio hadn't realized had grown so deep—"we got him stabilized, and he passed through surgery with flying colors. He's in recovery now but barring complications, we'll be moving him to a private room shortly."

Gladio allowed his eyes to fall closed, exhaled deeply. "Thank the Six."

Her smile had deepened when he reopened his eyes. "Indeed. Now, there are a lot of details to go over moving forward, and I'm sure you have questions, so while we wait, if you wouldn't mind…"

"Sure thing. Just gotta make a quick call first."

*****

At the first sounds of stirring, Gladio tossed aside the book—some trashy romance one of the nurses had managed to scrounge up for him—and swung his feet off the spare bed—another gift of the nursing staff, who'd taken pity on him and his poor back after his sixth hour in the uncomfortable bedside chair.

Taking in the fluttering eyelids and twitching fingers, Gladio reached over Prompto's bed to flick the call button and then took his place once more in the aforementioned back-breaking chair. Then leaned forward to bump the nearest still too pale arm.  "There you go, Blondie, that's it. Took you long enough."

Though really, the doctor had warned that she doubted Prompto would be waking before late evening, considering all the stresses his body had undergone. So just a little after dinner was on the early side, all things considered. Even so, it'd been a long day and Gladio was all too happy to see that peek of blue as Prompto’s eyes slit open slowly.

The nurse arrived with a, "Hey, sweetheart, look who's awake?"  just as Prom finally managed to croak out a confused, "Gladio?"

Prompto made it through about half of the nurse's questions before his obviously growing agitation got the best of him, batting feebly at her hand as she reached to take another reading.  "G-gladio, Noct! What about Noct, is he…"

"He's fine. _You're_ the one that's got everyone worried." Gladio glowered. "So let her finish checking you over and I promise to fill you in on everything afterwards. Deal?"

Prompto's expression conveyed all too clearly how _not_ pleased he was about it, but he answered every question the nurse posed. He was already flagging by the end though, eyelids at half-mast. 

This didn't stop him from turning to Gladio as soon as the nurse gave his pillow one final fluff and bid him get some rest as she departed.  "Noct?"

He was struggling to sit further up, probably in an attempt to stave off the sleep so obviously calling to him. Gladio frowned, debated momentarily putting any explanation off until Prompto could get some more rest. But a promise was a promise. "Noct's fine, as I said. Or will be once he gets the news you’re up. You gave him a scare there."

"S-sorry."

Gladio cursed silently as Prompto's whole body took on an immediate downcast posture.  The fact that he still looked one step up from death warmed over only made it worse.

"Nothing for it now. And you heard the nurse, you're expected to make a full recovery, so…"

"…So," Prompto licked his lips, wouldn't meet Gladio's eyes. "So…we're not in too much trouble?"

Gladio couldn't help the snort. "Wouldn't say that."

It was impossible to miss Prompto's full-body wince.

"Gonna be honest, there're a whole bunch of new restrictions being put in place. One most relevant to you being Noct won't be hanging out with you for the foreseeable future." 

As consequences went, it was a doozy—the repercussions of which were to be felt by anyone even peripherally involved; the prince would see to that if nothing else.  Even Ignis had sounded vaguely…perturbed when he'd recounted how the meeting between Noct, the King, Gladio's father and a few others on the council had gone.  All the big guns brought in for this one.

"Oh…" Prompto seemed to fold in on himself, sinking back into the pillows, eyes falling fully shut. "I see…"  Then he turned his head away, blinked and—oh shit. Gladio really, really prayed those were not tears because he knew without a doubt he wasn't equipped to deal with that, as a few memorable situations with Iris had definitively proven.

"I-I promise I'll abide by any new rules." Sniffle.

"That's…uh, good." Gladio was fairly sure the same could not be said of Noct, at least not when it came to this. He would be shocked if Noct wasn't already plotting how to sneak into the hospital as soon as all the commotion died down.  He certainly hadn't let up on demands for updates every ten minutes or so since being reunited with his phone a few hours back.

Then Prompto drew a deep breath, turned back to Gladio, eyes shimmering but no evidence of tears actually shed.

"But I'm also ready to do whatever's necessary to earn back that privilege and trust."

It was Gladio's turn to blink. "Wait…what?"

*****

"He thinks it's punishment."

On the other end of the line, Ignis cleared his throat. "Well…it _is_ punishment."

Gladio sighed, shook his head even knowing it wouldn't be seen from across the city. "Not for Noct. Punishment for _himself_. And worse, Prompto thinks he deserves it." Gladio interpreted the _hmm_ as invitation to expound. "Because he should have done more."

He liked to think he knew Ignis well enough to read that pregnant pause as blatant confusion. "He took a bullet for his highness."

"Yup.  But apparently that's not enough. Also, Prompto didn’t outright say it but he implied that it _has_ to be aimed at him, because how would not being able to see him be more than a minor annoyance from Noct's side?"

Ignis either wasn't trying or was simply physically unable to hold back his exasperation. "Well, I can categorically assure him _that's_ not the case."

"His royal heiny's already tried to make a break for it, hasn't he?"

"Twice," the sigh echoed down the line. "Any admonishment that sneaking off is what started this whole mess in the first place only grants so much traction.  He's wracked with guilt, clearly. But for now the worry is overpowering it and any other sense of responsibility or rationality.  Which has gone over about as well as you can imagine with all the other tempers flaring."

"So what I'm hearing is your day's been non-stop fun and games."

Ignis’ bark of laughter held a sharp note. "Yes, quite. Though hearing Prompto’s awake and on the mend has helped, but Noct would rather not take anyone's word for it, even yours."

"Fair enough. Honestly, I'd rather not go through another round of convincing Blondie we're not mad at him and he doesn't have to do some kinda penance before he's allowed to see Noct again. I've decided kicking a puppy would definitely be kinder."

The sigh was even more pronounced this time. "It's true I don't believe the full ramifications of who besides Noct would be affected was fully considered during the conception of these new restrictions…"

"Heh, what else is new. You're not just talking Prompto though, are you? Lay it on me."

"I've spent the last hour making arrangements not just for Noct's return to the Citadel for however long he is to be 'grounded,' but your and my official quarters are to be put to use as well."

"Up to us to enforce this house arrest, huh?" Gladio groaned, rubbed a hand over his face.  Living full-time at the Citadel would definitely put a crimp in his style.

"Naturally." Though to most he might be better at hiding it, Gladio could easily hear his own frustrations mirrored in Ignis' tone. "As for the situation with Prompto…I'll figure something out."

*****

At Prompto's strenuous insistence—and only after the doctor's reassurance that his prognosis remained good and his recovery steady—Gladio headed home for a few hours on Sunday to shower, grab a couple hours of sleep in his own bed and begin packing up some odds and ends to be shifted over to his Citadel lodgings.

He returned in time to join Prompto for an early dinner followed by a few rounds of cards, as even the minimal dexterity required for most phone games was beyond a well-medicated Prompto. Ignis had promised he would try to stop by at some point, to which Gladio had told him he better not before he'd gotten at least a few hours of sleep.

Even with said admonishment, it wasn't a surprise to discover his hand behind the knock at the door that evening. The fact that Marshal Cor Leonis followed Ignis into the room _was,_ however.

Gladio shot to his feet, assumed a rough attention. "Sir." Out of the corner of his eye he could see Prompto stiffen, cards pattering down on the bedspread like raindrops as he released them in his haste to sit straighter.

Waving Gladio aside, the Marshal assumed the chair he had just vacated. "Prompto Argentum, I'd like to go over the events of Friday night."

"It wasn't Noct's fault!" Prompto blurted. Then his eyes went comically wide and his mouth snapped shut, his expression a mixture of panic and betrayal at his own tongue's audacity.

The Marshal paused mid-lean, settled back, one eyebrow slightly raised. "Oh? Care to elaborate?"

"Well…I mean…" Prompto gulped. "W-we had just gone to watch the movies. _They_ approached us, started everything."

"All accounts agree _his highness_ threw the first punch."

"Yeah, but only after that assho—er…guy shoved me. Noct..ah, Prince Noctis was just protecting me. Which I needed…so…so that's on me."

"I see. And whose idea was the movies to being with?"

"Mine."

"Interesting. The prince insists it was his."

Gladio cringed silently in sympathy right along with Prompto's more blatant display of dismay.  Being faced with Marshal Leonis' preternaturally calm countenance was a challenge on the best of days and as one body hidden in a crowd of many. Being the sole recipient caused even the most stoic of the Guard palpitations. 

"I…I mean we both wanted to go. And I was the one who showed Noct..Noctis, I mean, t-the Prince, the poster."

"He reports he found it on your phone and you were adamant you two not attend."

"Yeah…but, I mean, I _wanted_ him to see it. Because I wanted us to go. Because I knew he'd enjoy it and he's been stressed lately and just needed a break…but…but then I started second-guessing, like I always do. So that's why he thinks it was his idea. But I totally started all this."

Gladio glanced over to Ignis as Prompto trailed off. Ignis was keeping his expression schooled, watching calmly as the Marshal offered all the rope Prompto needed to hang himself.  Fantastic.

After a beat of awkward silence, Marshal Leonis continued, steady as ever, "And the idea to circumvent security, that was yours as well?"

Prompto's shoulders slumped, gaze dropping to the bedspread, fingers fiddling with one of the abandoned cards. "N-no," he finally whispered. "He…I…but he just wanted a couple hours of freedom, a little fun.  That's all, just…"

"Enough." The Marshal held up a hand and Prompto fell silent immediately. "As I first stated, I'm here to go over all the events, and I prefer to do so chronologically. So, if you would start from the beginning, and proceed through your own account of what happened as you witnessed it."

Which is what they did. For the next hour.  And probably would have continued on for longer if not for the nurse who showed up and shooed them all out. Good timing on his part, as Gladio had been moments away from doing so himself.  The deepening furrow on Prompto's brow, the squint of pain and the rising frequency of yawns had had Gladio itching to pull the plug for a while.

And though Ignis had remained calm and silent for the most part, his own growing restlessness, subtle as usual but there for those who knew him well, told Gladio that he had noticed and not been unaffected by the kid's increasingly obvious exhausted state.

Once in the corridor with the door shut behind them, Gladio whipped around to glare at his companions. "Want to explain what in the hells was that? The kid got _shot_ less than two days ago! He's been through a lot. Is now really the time to—"

"Now is precisely the time to get a real measure of him. And yes, Ignis, whatever else, I can't fault his loyalty. Or observations skills, for that matter. I'll check into the rest, but this may work."

With no further explanation, the Marshal pivoted and marched off in the direction of the elevator. Which left Ignis to clarify the whole mess. Gladio hoped his glower was conveying clearly enough how fast he better start talking. "Well…?"

"Hmm?" Ignis had that vaguely distant look of intense contemplation before Gladio's gruff demand drew him back. "Oh, yes…in attempting to find a short-term solution I instead hit upon a possible long-term one, at least as far as addressing Noct's constant chafing against supervision and security."

"Oh?"

"We induct Prompto into the Crownsguard."

To Be Concluded…

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan going in was to post a chapter a week. Unfortunately, apologies in advance, but the final chapter is probably gonna be a bit delayed as I'm on the road for the next 10 days and after 12 plus hours a day of wrangling some forty odd people, writing sadly comes slowly, if not at all T__T. But, it's started and we shall see...Thanks for everyone who's stuck with it so far!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing was being...difficult, wound up drawing [another pic](http://gnine2.tumblr.com/post/177519218990/another-pic-from-this-fic-im-working-onits), from chapter 2, because despite the words not flowing, story was still stuck in my head T.T. But it's finished now \o/.

Chapter 4

Through the open door Ignis could see Prompto in the corner, hunched awkwardly in an attempt to tie his shoes. Ignis couldn't hold back his sigh. The nurse _had_ been correct, unfortunately.  It was pure providence she had called to double-check.

He cleared his throat as he stepped inside, and it was impossible to miss Prompto's guilty start at the sound, eyes blown almost comically wide.

"Oh! …Uh...hey, Ignis."

"Going somewhere?"

That wide-eyed gaze immediately dropped, skittered nervously to the side.  "Yeah, they, uh...cleared me to go home."

"So the nurse informed me. The one who called to go over some of the details of your care, seeing as it was understood that it was into our keeping that you were to be provisionally released. "

The wince was as pronounced as all the other reactions thus far. And solid eye contact still had yet to be achieved. "I…I never told them that—"

"No, you just allowed the assumption to continue unrefuted because, as the nurse also made quite clear, they _don't_ believe you are ready to be alone yet." While it was true Prompto did look significantly improved from only a few days ago, there was still an obvious tremor as he finished lacing up the second shoe, and a slow deliberateness to his movements that spoke of underlying discomfort . "Prompto, it's been less than a week."

"It'll be fine. I mean, my parents will back soon, so…"

"Oh?" Ignis raised his eyebrow in question, despite Prompto's continuing refusal to actually meet his gaze. "As I understood from the last time I spoke to them—earlier this morning—it would be a minimum of two weeks, most likely longer, until they could break away from their work." Ignis found it impossible to keep the bitterness entirely out of his voice as he watched Prompto deflate at the words, shoulders curling inwards, a nervous turtle retreating into its shell.

There had been a lot more than bitterness on Ignis' end during that phone call.  The scathing lecture he'd been unable to contain had done seemly nothing to change Prompto's parents' decision on the matter, however.  It had taken ironclad control not to fling his phone across the room after they'd hung up.

Finished with his shoes, Prompto slumped back in the chair, ideally fiddling with his wristband. "Seriously, it'll be fine. I feel great, and I mean, I'm used to taking care of myself"—Prompto still hadn't looked up, but he must have sensed Ignis' frown nonetheless for he rushed on—"and, I just...it sucks being in the hospital, and besides, my insurance is probably going nuts and—"

"Prompto," Ignis cut in with a heavy exhale, hand rising unconsciously to pinch the bridge of his nose, glasses briefly unsettled. "We've been over this. You were injured while protecting _the prince_. Of course all medical expenses are being covered."

"Yeah, but…" Prompto offered a shaky laugh. "I know the staff's been going out of their way and this room is all fancy and, well, it's already been almost six days, that's kinda pushing it..."

Ignis took another slow, restrained breath. Fantasized briefly about throwing his hands up in dramatic despair…or just shaking Prompto like a maraca until some sense rattled in. Seeing as neither proved likely to improve the situation, he resisted. Barely.

When Prompto had first started hanging about the prince, Ignis had been leery, as duty dictated. Far too often, others had sidled up to Noctis with friendship on their lips but ambition in their eyes. The prince had grown accustomed to spotting and avoiding such advances, but Ignis and Gladio remained vigilant nevertheless.

So when a random boy, and not for the first time, took an interest in his highness and then proceeded to slip himself surprisingly smoothly into Noctis' inner orbit, Ignis couldn't help but be suspicious. To question motivation and intent.

Two years on, however (not that it had taken anywhere near that amount of time to draw the conclusion) Ignis and Gladio were in complete agreement that Prompto's goal in obtaining his highness' friendship  was entirely that in and of itself: to be friends. He looked for nothing further.

The real trick, in fact, to all their mounting frustration, was getting Prompto to accept _anything_ beyond that.

This was not the first time Ignis had tangled with Prompto's self-sufficient streak. This wasn't even the first time in the last 48 hours.

 On Tuesday, when Ignis had shown up at the hospital bearing the new phone Noctis had spent two days painstakingly researching and deliberating on, Ignis had been braced, taking to heart the prince's solemn warning. Even so, it had been a struggle getting the gift accepted.

_"Noctis assures me you already agreed,"_ _Ignis reminded him as Prompto shoved the unopened box back across the bedspread._

_"What? No! When?"_

_"Something about getting aid in time and avoiding further back strain…"_

_Prompto paused, head cocked, considering. "Wait, he's counting_ that?! _Dude, I was loopy with bloodloss. Sooo doesn't count!...and if it's that important, I'll pick a new one up when I'm sprung from here. I…I have some savings…" he trailed off uncertainly._

_"Prompto." Ignis picked up the box, placed it more firmly this time in Prompto's resisting grasp. "Noctis is feeling a certain amount of…helplessness in the face of recent events. It is, unfortunately, a familiar sensation for his highness with regards to far too many forces in his life. It may be small, but this is something he_ can _do. Let him have that.”_

_Prompto had quickly changed the subject, but when Ignis had bid him farewell later, the phone had remained._

Now, watching as Prompto pushed to his feet, just shy of steady, to begin gathering up his things, Ignis wondered if he should have reserved that argument for this struggle.

Prompto turned, expression earnest, the death grip on the hoodie in his hands betraying just how tense he was. "Please, Ignis. I just…am really ready to be out of the hospital."

Ignis let his expression soften. "I have no intention of stopping your release."

"Oh…ah, that's--"

"As long as you agree to come back with me."

Prompto stopped, arm caught halfway in the sleeve. "C'mon, Ignis, that really isn't necessary."

"Perhaps not." Ignis didn't believe it for a second. "It is, however, the terms, if you want to be getting out today."

"I…but…" Prompto gave Ignis a long, searching look. Ignis returned it calmly. "I’m not getting out of this, am I?"

"No."

Silently, Prompto reached for the bag of belongings sitting at the foot of the bed, grimaced slightly as he bent over, breath sharp.  The hesitation allowed Ignis to beat him to it, scooping it up.  "Is this everything?"

A heartbeat as Prompto stood mute, arm still half extended, and then his posture folded, signaling defeat. "Uh, yeah."

As Prompto headed for the door, he paused on the threshold. "Hey…um…Ignis?"

Ignis cocked his head, waited.

"…Thanks."

******

Prompto slept the entire car-ride over to the Citadel. Even so, by the time they were finished with security—Prompto now in possession of an upgraded long-term visitor pass good for the length of his stay—Ignis could see he was already flagging.

As the lift ascended, Prompto gave the wall the job of propping up most of his weight.

"And you're suure this is alright. Me staying here…along with Noct. All the higher-up powers that be really approved?  


Despite multiple reassurances on this matter already, Prompto's voice was still laden with doubt, eyebrows furrowed.  Ignis fought another sigh.

"I spoke to the King myself.  The ban has been lifted, insofar as you spending time together. _Where_ you'll be allowed to do so is still, however, very much restricted at this time."

Fortuitously,  that change had occurred shortly before the hospital called. Ignis was still unsure what precipitated the reversal of that order.  It may have been Ignis' own arguments concerning Prompto's welfare—all the medical staff had been in firm agreement on the importance of a strong support network to speed recovery, and Prompto's own parents were woefully unreliable.  Or, more likely, it had been Noctis' ongoing war of attrition—it had not been the most pleasant of weeks to be anywhere in the prince's vicinity. Guilt, worry and a growing resentment at the inability to fully address either did not a happy mixture make.

Prompto's presence would hopefully change that. Nothing else was working, certainly.

As the doors dinged open, Prompto heaved himself slowly upright. Ignis was torn between proffering an aiding hand and granting a bit of the independence Prompto was so obviously craving.  The latter won. But Ignis was prepared to jump in at the first hint of overstrain.

Which meant the going was slow, and when the first sounds of the argument reached them, there was little left to do but listen as they inched forward down the corridor.

"And I'm telling you, _no!”_ That was unmistakably Noct, the refutation echoing off the hall walls.  

The low rumbled response sounded like Gladio, but soft enough to make the individual words indistinguishable.

"You're not listening to me. Prompto is not going to be a bloody Crownsguard and that's final!"

Their slow amble was brought to an abrupt halt. Prompto stiffened beside him,  mouthed _"Crownsguard?"_ before whipping around to stare questioningly at Ignis.

Ignis had been planning to wait to broach the subject until a more definitive approval had been given. Also ideally at a time when Prompto was looking less like a stiff breeze might blow him over.

"Your reasoning,  your highness?" Ah, Marshal Leonis was here as well. Not…ideal for the desired uneventful  'home' coming.

"Because…because it's Prompto.  And it's Not. Going. To. Happen."

Prompto was nodding, as if the answer was both expected and obvious. Even so, the slight flinch, the almost imperceptible drooping of his shoulders before he did so bespoke of the harsher impact the sentiment inflicted.

"Is there something we have yet to be made aware of that would impede his success? Do you know something about Argentum that makes him unfit to—"

"What? No!" Ignis knew that tone well enough to easily picture the accompanying scowl as Noct cut off the Marshal. "I'm not saying he's not capable of doing it. Of course he is. Do you think I didn't have this idea long before it finally dawned on any of you?"

Prompto's nodding had stopped, bewilderment replacing certainty. Ignis could confess his own…curiosity at the Prince's proclamation.

"First time we ever went to an arcade together I realized all he'd need was an hour or so to get accustomed to a real weapon and he'd outshoot any 'guard or glaive you put him against.  Out-run any of 'em probably, too. He'd be an _amazing_ Crownsguard."

Prompto's head was in motion again, now in a building negating shake, denial plain as prose transcribed on his features.

"Then what's the problem?" Gladio interjected roughly.

"The problem is he just took a bullet for me. When all we were doing was hanging out. The _problem_ is asking him to swear an oath making it his sworn duty to do it again. And again, and again, 'till one or both of us actually bites it. The _problem_ is I wanted one, just one gods-be-damned person I care about not to have to make that promise, to always put royal burden before their wellbeing.  The problem is, unlike the rest of us, Prompto actually has a choice in getting dragged in and under this mess. "

"A choice you're now making for him."

"Oh, fuck you, Gladio."

 A door slam and then the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps heralded Noct's arrival just before he rounded the corner.  Head down, muttering under his breath, he was nearly to Ignis and Prompto before his less-than-alone status penetrated.  The moment it did was unmistakable.

"Prompto!" Noctis might as well have warped for the speed he cleared the rest of the gulf between them, only to skid to an abrupt halt just before impact, Prompto's precarious state recalled just in the nick of time.  Said state was not enough to postpone an embrace, however, though Ignis could tell Noct was holding himself back, arms loose and gentle when it was clear his initial inclination had been a bone-crushing hug.

After a moment, Prompto—whose mouth had finally slapped closed over the slack-jawed 'o' of surprise it had formed since the beginning of Noct's tirade—squeezed back.

"H-hey, Noct--"

At the half-wheezed words, Noctis drew back, eyes scanning up and down at the same frantic pace as his string of questions. "They released you? How are you feeling…. Better? What are you doing here? What—"

Prompto shook his head, tossing the questions aside like a horse would a pesky fly. "Noct. That's not why I did it."

"I…what?"

Prompto sighed. "I didn't 'take a bullet for you' 'cause of some stupid royal obligation thing. "

Noct stilled, glanced once over to Ignis, then back to Prompto. Assessing what'd they'd overheard, no doubt.

"And it wouldn't matter if I swore any random oath or _not_ , of course I'd do it again, same circumstances."

"…Prompto," Noct began, expression shuttered. 

Prompto let him get no further. "Dude, you're my best friend; what else am I going to do?"

"Oh, I don't know, _not_  get shot?!"

Prompto answered Noct's growl with an airy hand-wave. "I mean, _yeah_ , ideally. But not if it means watching you _die_. What kind of friend would I be then?!"

Ignis could read most of Noct's expressions easier than a picture book; that considering head-cock, shrewd narrowing of the eyes never boded well. "Oh really. So then, reverse circumstances, as your friend, it would be fine for me to get shot in your place?"

Prompto's eyes went wide enough Ignis almost feared a lost contact was imminent.  "No!"

"Why not? I mean, it's what friends do, right? So—"

"Because…I mean, you can't, not for me…I…you're—"

"The prince?"  


"Yes!...but that's not what matters for me. But just…for you…I…"

Noct's laugh would have sounded triumphant in a lesser argument; instead it held of a note of weary defeat. "Right, exactly. Thanks for clearing that up."

Ignis cleared his throat, threw a drowning man a life preserver.  "Because unlike the rest of us, as part of the royal Lucian line, you have a sacred duty to every citizen, not just your friends. It is, however regrettable, difficult if not impossible for you to ever act completely divorced from that role."

Pompto's relieved, "Yeah, that, what Iggy said!" was mostly drowned out by Noct's, "Stay out of this."

Ignis was debating just how much that was a direct order versus a suggestion he could fail to 'hear' when Prompto took the question out of his hands. "Look, Noct…I—" Prompto was visibly swaying. It had been building for a while, Ignis belatedly realized, only grown pronounced enough now to become unmissable. He'd paled as well, closer to his complexion of a few days ago than the more healthy pink upon his release.

Ignis wasn't the only one to notice. Noct's arm shot out concurrently with Ignis' own motion, bracing Prompto simultaneously from either side as he listed.

"Shit, Prom, I didn't--"

"No…it's fine, just a little dizzy. I—"

"—Should be sitting down, resting." Ignis concluded briskly. This time Prompto wasn't given the choice of making it on his own steam; even if Ignis had been tempted, which he wasn't, Noct wasn't going to be peeled away any time soon. He pressed in close as they shuffled slowly the rest of the way down the hall, the argument, for now at least, effectively tabled.

*****

Ignis had almost finished preparing a late lunch—with the quiet susurration of conversation, Noct's and Prompto's tenors interwoven with Gladio bass creating a soothing background soundtrack—when Noctis popped his head into the kitchen. "Prompto's starting to doze off. Gladio was debating just carrying him to the spare room, but--"

"He really should eat something first. The hospital serves breakfast on the early side and I'm just about finished here."

"Food first," Noct hollered, voice pitched to carry to the next room. But he made no move to follow on out. The clenching and unclenching of his fists was visible in Ignis' periphery.

"Noct--"

"--Was it your or Gladio's idea?

Ignis turned back to the stove, began flipping the grilled cheese. "Mine. But after Gladio's initial--"

"—complete disbelief?"

"— _surprise_ , he readily agreed."

Noct snorted, tone sour. "And all it took was Prom almost dying for me.  I bet you're not even serious about him being a real Crownsguard, just hoping you'll gain a spy—"

"Noct," Ignis kept his voice stern, "that is unfair—"

"—yeah, well—"

"—to _Prompto_. Doubly so, in fact." Ignis caught the flash of surprise, continued into the pause it provided. "While I will admit the idea had not previously crossed my mind—which seems at least somewhat intentional on _your_ part, considering your earlier statement—you were not wrong in your assessment. With the right training, the foundation is there. Prompto is not unskilled nor could his loyalty be questioned.  I do believe he would make a fine, _full-fledged_ member of the guard."

Noct crossed his arms, expression still stormy but not entirely closed off.

"But also, if you believe for one second he would ever go behind your back to tell us anything you did not wish known…I cannot imagine his loyalty to the Crownsguard—or even the King—would ever exceed his loyalty to you."

Noct's gaze had dropped, but Ignis thought he caught the brief flutter of a sad smile flit across his lips. "Fine, we're all in agreement that he'd be great at it. None of that changes the fact there's not a chance in hells I'm letting anyone extract a promise from him to _die_ for me."

Ignis turned off the burner, began shifting the sandwiches over to the waiting plates.  "You're asking for him to swear to be ready to take that _risk_ , not a certainty."

Noct huffed, started to turn away. 

"Noct, it is by _no means_ a certainty. For any of us. But death will come for us all eventually; hoping there might be meaning to it when it does is by no means a burden.  Be assured, however, we all have but one life to give, and none of us will offer it up too easily." Ignis offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he shoved the first plate into Noct's empty hands. "After all, if we're all gone, you might have to get _yourself_ out of trouble, and we all know how that would go—"

"Hey!"

"And regardless, as Prompto pointed out and most aptly demonstrated, no oath is needed for anyone to make that choice. But with more training…"

Noct sighed. "His options go up."

Ignis offered him a brief shoulder squeeze. "It is not a decision that needs to be made immediately. With some notable exceptions, it's unusual for the Crownsguard to induct anyone before they've finished schooling, and age twenty or even older is more traditional."

Ignis finished with the last of the plating, handed another over to Noct and grabbed remaining two himself. "In the meantime, it might behoove you to get Prompto's input about how _he_ actually feels about stepping into the role."

Noct winced. "I hadn't meant to not let him choose… I just want—"

"To protect him. Both understandable and admirable. But then you must bear in mind that the desire is reciprocal."

"Exactly!" Noct huffed. "I meant it when I said I'd do the same for him."

"I'm not unaware."

Noct was planted in Ignis' path, his gaze and conviction unwavering. "That goes for you and Gladio as well. You get to risk your lives for me, I do the same for you. Lucian 'royal duty' and all is just going to have to deal."

It went against all Ignis had been sworn to…but such fierce loyalty was also was what made the oaths he'd taken so easy to continue to uphold.   Ignis let his head drop in a slight bow. "Highness," he murmured as he slipped past.

At Gladio's gentle rousing, Prompto was making it to a generally upright positon, propped by a half-dozen pillows—Ignis wasn't even sure where Noct had scrounged that many up from.

"Hey, Ignis…that smells"—Prompto broke off with a jaw-cracking yawn—"delicious."

"Bets that you fall asleep face first two bites in." Noct grinned as he wedged himself next to Prompto, but handed neither plate over.

"Aw c'mon, give the squirt some credit—" Gladio interceded.

"—thanks—"

The grin really should have clued Prompto in. "—I'm sure he can make it at least halfway through before face-planting. He's a pretty good a crammin' food in fast--

"Hey!" Prompto squawked, but the outrage was hardly believable with the smile fighting to plaster itself across his face.

"Maaaaybe," Noct conceded, but still kept the food just out of Prompto's questing reach. "Not sure you should be trusted with something as delicate as a plate, though…"

"I took a _bullet_ for you, where's the respect?!"

The pause was almost imperceptible, but Ignis sensed it nonetheless. Only time would smooth it out completely.

But then Noct was smirking. "Gooood question."  His shoulder dropped into a companionable nudge as he finally capitulated, passed the hostage lunch over with a genuine smile. "Right where it's always been."

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading and again thanks to Xparrot for betaing and being a sounding board despite not being into the fandom! XD

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing started out as a [random drawing](http://gnine2.tumblr.com/post/176438702517/this-pic-started-as-a-random-moment-that-popped) I was doing to try out using Paint Tool Sai. Only as I was sketching, the circumstances behind the picture coalesced into a full scene, and then it was 'just a quick fic' and now it's going to be at least three chapters and I don't know how many words and…it just all got away from me? OOPS *headdesk*
> 
> Can't help it, these boys are just too inspiring.
> 
> If you want to come flail with me over their wonderfulness, you can find me as Gnine2 on [tumblr](http://gnine2.tumblr.com/).


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